The Past in the Present
by and she knew love
Summary: With a stalker who won't quit ogling him, an old flame of Bones who still has the hots for her, and a killer on the loose, Booth has his hands full at Brennan's twenty-year high school reunion. Set in Season 6. B&B, H&A.


**When I said I'd write another Bones story, I wasn't expecting it to be this soon. Avoidance of my homework has gone a long way toward the writing of this chapter. **

**I'm working under the assumption that the episode in which Brennan returns to her high school (5x17 I think?) never happened. **

**Hope you like it :) **

**Disclaimer: Bones isn't mine. Just borrowing it for some fun. **

* * *

"Is it a left here? Dr. B?"

"No, it's a right two miles ahead."

"No, sweetie, I'm pretty sure Hodgins is right. It's a left."

"No, look at the map, Ange. There's clearly a marked road to the right, right here. See?"

"Sweetie, that isn't the marked route. We're following this one, see?"

"I thought Booth marked the route in red. Didn't he? This is the red route, and there's a right two miles ahead."

"Bren, _look. _It's clearly going left here. And it's the _blue_ route we're following."

"My memory is impeccable, Ange. I'm certain Booth said—"

"All right, all right, break it up, you two." Booth levered himself up from the backmost seat and reached over them for the map. "Jeez, with all your combined genius, you can't figure out a map?"

Bones crossed her arms, obviously irritated. "I'm a scientist, Booth, not a cartographer. You can't expect me to be able to analyze a map accurately."

"You talk about it like it's a thesis paper," Booth muttered. "It's a _map_, Bones. With labels and everything. It isn't that hard."

"Still. I'm hardly an expert in the matter."

"You're just mad there's something you can't do well," Booth teased, flipping the map open and smoothing out the creases. "Okay, here's the problem: you're looking at the wrong part of the state. And I highlighted the route in _orange_, not red or blue."

"Close enough," Angela remarked.

"Orange is nowhere close to blue," Bones argued. "Red, however—"

"Hate to break up your little catfight," Hodgins interrupted, glancing in the rearview mirror at his wife and boss bickering in the middle seat, "but I kind of need directions here."

"Give me a second, Dirt Man," Booth said, scanning the road names. "Bones and Angela completely lost us."

Hodgins shot him a glare in the mirror. "I know you say it to tease me, but _seriously_, 'dirt' in reference to soil samples and any organisms within makes me want to tear my hair out!"

Ignoring him, Booth traced a finger along their route and glanced up at passing road signs to pinpoint their location. Eventually, he found them heading toward an intersection and said, "Take the next right onto Merilee. Then keep going straight until you pass the church."

"What church?"

Booth shrugged. "Your little annotation here says, 'Big church, can't miss it.'"

"I wrote that?"

"Well, yeah. I _did_ tell you to make notes to make the going easier."

"Oh, right. I remember. It's a big old mission they renovated in 2004. Looked pretty in the pictures."

"Interesting," Bones said, and Booth groaned, and Angela instantly shook her head.

"No, Bren."

Bones paused. "No what?"

The artist sighed. "No, we're not going on a little detour to see the old mission." Bones opened her mouth, but Angela continued over her, "And before you say you weren't going to say that, let me just tell you that I know that tone, Bren."

"What tone?"

"The tone that says you think something's too good to pass up," Booth answered from the back seat. "Right, Angela?"

She nodded. "Right. And frankly, Bren, I've had enough of your little detours. It's about time we got to this little remote town of yours before we completely miss the reunion."

"It's Friday," Bones answered, frowning. "The reunion doesn't start until Saturday afternoon, and at the rate we're going, we should be in Burtonsville within the hour. I don't think we'll miss anything."

"Not that you'd care," Angela muttered, crossing her arms. "I mean, I practically had to shove the invite down your throat for you to accept it."

"Nothing was shoved down my throat," Bones answered automatically. "And if you're talking about my reluctance to accept, I really didn't have memorable high school years. In light of that, why would I want to attend a twenty-year reunion with many people who never liked me?"

"Memories, Bones, memories," Booth said. "That, and the fact that I really want to know what you were like in high school."

"You could just _ask_ me," she replied.

Booth snorted. "Like you'd tell me. And nothing's better than personal experience, Bones. I want to see where you grew up."

"I didn't _grow up_ here, per se—"

He rolled his eyes. "Whatever, Bones. This is your high school reunion, and you invited the three of us along for a reason."

"Because I didn't want to show up alone?"

"_Because_ you wanted a vacation with your friends."

"This isn't a vacation."

Booth leaned back in his seat and stretched his arms. "Then I don't have a clue what this is. We're driving hundreds of miles from D.C. and spending almost three days without looking at a corpse. What else is it?"

"I told Cam that I was going on a trip to study adolescent interactions in a school setting."

"Yes, sweetie," Angela said, rolling her eyes, "and Cam so _obviously_ believed you."

"You think so?" Bones asked, sounding pleased. "See, Booth? I _can_ fool people."

_Sarcasm, Bones, sarcasm. _But he let her preserve her self-satisfied little smile and just closed his eyes.

* * *

An hour and a half later, he jolted awake to find that the car had stopped.

"We here?" he mumbled groggily.

"Yup," Angela answered, tossing his sweatshirt at him. "Rise and shine, sweetheart, and welcome to Burtonsville."

He caught the sweatshirt as it hit his face and yawned. "We find a place to stay?"

"Home sweet home for the next three days," Hodgins answered, nodding at the building they'd stopped in front of.

It was a huge building that gave off a sort of colonial feel with its wooden exterior and quaint appearance. A sign out front had its paint peeling off so that it said 'Wa s de In' in fading white letters.

"Wahz-day Inn," Booth read after a moment. "Sounds…"

"It's Wayside," Hodgins answered. "At least, that's what it was called when I looked it up." He frowned momentarily. "The sign had all its letters in the picture online, though."

"It's probably seen better days," Angela sighed, helping Hodgins lug the suitcases out of the back of the van.

"Yeah, about a hundred years ago," Booth muttered, grinning at the disbelieving look Bones subsequently shot him. He helped Hodgins and Angela with the luggage and slung his own duffel bag over his back as they made their way inside.

The lobby looked clean and spacious at least, and a fireplace crackled merrily to the side of the room. A dozen people lounged here and there on the lobby's couches, and a short line snaked up to the reception. A few employees dashed back and forth toting luggage or bed sheets. For a place that looked so old, it was surprisingly busy.

"Must be people coming in for the reunion," Angela mused, eyeing the crowd.

"Then I hope we can get rooms," Booth muttered, knowing his back wouldn't be able to take it if they had to sleep in the car.

"I reserved rooms for us," Bones reassured him quickly. "Two suites, one for me and Angela, and the other for you and Hodgins."

"This place has suites?" Booth asked, glancing around in new appreciation.

Hodgins sighed. "I still don't get why I can't be with Ange. I mean, she _is_ my wife."

"They're very busy this weekend," Bones answered. "I could only get two rooms, and I thought Booth would be more comfortable sharing with you."

Angela smiled, a devious glint entering her eyes. Booth saw the look and groaned inwardly, knowing she was up to something.

"Then you won't mind if Hodgins visits us at night?" Angela purred.

"To _talk_," Bones answered pointedly, and Booth rolled his eyes. Right. To talk. When in the history of their lengthy relationship had Hodgins and Angela ever managed to limit their interaction to _talking?_

Clearly, Hodgins was thinking along the same lines. With a grin, he added, "Sure, to talk, Dr. B. But what if it gets a little out of hand? I mean, here's my sexy wife lying on her bed in her PJ's, just _talking_, but hey, I'm a guy. I get guy hormones. I could just—"

"Not talk about that," Booth interrupted, hoping he wasn't flushing. "You guys keep your hands to yourselves. I'm sure you can manage that for three days."

Angela gave him a skeptical look. "I don't know about that, G-man."

"You were celibate for months," he reminded her in exasperation. "Three days is nothing."

"Perspective, Booth, perspective," Hodgins replied, shaking his head. "Three days is an eternity to Angela."

"_If_ it gets out of hand," Bones interjected, as usual completely unembarrassed, "then I'll relocate."

Booth groaned. "Where?"

She gave him a strange look. "Your room, of course. Where else?" She frowned. "Do you mind?"

Did he mind? Hell yeah, he minded. He minded a hell of a lot that his gorgeous, blue-eyed, unbelievably genius partner intended to sleep within five feet of him. He minded that he'd be sitting on his bed pretending to watch TV while she took a shower—a _shower!_—within twenty feet of him. God, he could already imagine the sleepless nights ahead.

"Of course Booth doesn't mind," Angela said, quirking an amused eyebrow at Booth. "He'd _love_ your company, wouldn't he?"

His partner turned to look at him with that terribly oblivious gaze of hers, and his refusal circled the drain. When she gave him a little smile, his 'hell no' was sucked away with absolutely no chance of return. So instead, he just grinned weakly and said, "Sure, Bones. I don't mind sharing."

Angela beamed, and Booth knew with horrible certainty that that had been her intention all along. Damn her. Shooting her a glare, he hoisted up his duffel bag and automatically reached over to help Bones with her suitcase. She wrestled the suitcase back from him, protesting his little attempt at chivalry, and he let her have her way with a sigh.

Eventually, they made it to the receptionist, where they checked in and received two room keys. Angela noted delightedly that they had adjacent rooms and hurried them all up the elevators, eager to see the suites. Crowding into the elevator with four other people, they endured a tight ride to the top floor and unloaded.

"505," Bones read off the key. "It should be on the left here."

"And we're a little bit past you guys," Angela said, grinning. "This is gonna be great, Bren."

"I'm glad you're enjoying it," Booth said, half-glaring at her. Of course, she didn't have the barest hint of guilt for shoving him and Bones together in a room. Did she have _any_ idea what she did to him? By her smirk, she probably did. And she was enjoying it. Damn her again.

"Come on, Booth," Bones said, sticking the keycard into the scanner. The green light blinked on, and she stepped into the dark room, hand trailing the wall in search of the light switch as she did. Following her in, Booth reached over her arm to flick on the lights and sucked in a breath.

It was…surprisingly large. A lounge area and another area with beds stretched across a breathtaking view of grasslands and horizon. The windows that made up the opposite wall gave them a perfect view of the landscape at the back of the hotel, unmarred by any human constructions. It was more spacious and more elegant than any place Booth had ever stayed in. He wondered how on earth the hotel could afford a place like _this_ and not a pretty, fully-lettered sign out in front.

"It'll do," Bones said promptly, lugging her suitcase over to the nearest bed.

Booth followed her, still a little wide-eyed. "It'll _do?"_ he echoed. "Bones, this place is a palace!"

She frowned. "I've seen quite a few palaces, Booth, and this isn't close to some of the luxuries of kings past. Versailles, for instance—"

Booth sighed loudly and flopped back on one of the beds, closing his eyes. "Who cares, Bones? This is better than anywhere I ever stayed."

"I would assume so," she replied, unzipping her suitcase. "My income exceeds both yours and whatever the FBI pays to finance any trips."

"Way to kill my ego, Bones," he muttered. After a moment, he took a deep breath and sat up. "Okay, so what're we going to do now? We've got all night until tomorrow afternoon."

Bones shrugged, examining her suitcase. "I thought we might go out for dinner or something. Angela has done extensive research on shopping opportunities here, and I'm sure she'll want to browse the stores while we have time. Also, according to Hodgins, there are several bars that open all night. It's a much bigger town than I remembered."

"Well, it _has_ been twenty years, Bones," he reminded her. "Things are bound to be different." He stretched for a moment, yawned, and hoisted his duffel bag onto the bed. "So where do you want to go to dinner? A diner? Maybe a family place? I think I saw a sign for one in the lobby."

"I was thinking more along the lines of a formal restaurant," she mused.

He shot her an incredulous look. "Formal? _Why?"_

"I thought that since I rarely frequent any eatery except our diner, it would be nice to eat in a more formal setting for once."

_Our _diner. It made him grin to hear her refer to it that way, like it was their own little enclave, safe from all the horrors of their work. A place where they could be Seeley Booth and Temperance Brennan, not FBI agent and scientist. A place of their own.

"Okay," he agreed slowly, unzipping his duffel bag, "sure, formal. I think I packed a suit. Maybe."

"You should have," Bones said, pulling some clothes out of her suitcase. "I told you to bring something formal. The reunion invitation said formal attire."

"It's a high school reunion," Booth muttered, "not a prom."

"It's a chance to show off how much you've changed in twenty years," Bones replied. "People want to prove their dominance and returning to a place where people remember them as younger and less experienced is the perfect place to prove that. They'll be trying to single-up their old acquaintances all weekend."

"One-up," Booth chuckled, "_one-up_ their old acquaintances, Bones. And that's not really true; I went to my high school reunion to reconnect with old friends, not to prove my dominance or anything."

"And you're saying that not once in your reunion did you mention the fact that you are an FBI agent?" Bones said wryly. At his rueful grin, she smiled. "See? By mentioning your rather impressive career, you were trying to impress old acquaintances with what you've done with your life."

Booth shrugged. "So? Everyone wants to be admired."

"Admiration is unnecessary."

He laughed. "So why do you keep telling everyone that you're the best in your field and that you're a genius author with bestsellers left and right?"

She flushed. "That's different. Those are facts."

"I'm an FBI agent. That's a fact. So why is it trying to prove my dominance when I do it and not when you do? Sounds like trying to impress people to me," he teased.

With a huff, Bones pulled a few more things out of her suitcase and replied, "All right, so admiration is desirable, yes. But I don't value the opinions of many people. What does it matter if they admire me if I don't value it?"

He paused, a smile still hovering around his lips. Slowly drawing out his suit jacket and smoothing it out, he said, "I admire you, Bones."

She gave him a surprised look, and he caught her eyes, marveling at the way the dying sunlight caught them and played with the color, turning them light blue and then dark as clouds drifted across the horizon. God, she was beautiful. Sometimes, he wondered what the hell kind of fates made her his partner. If only she wasn't, if only they'd never worked together, could he and her have been a them? In another world, would _they_ have been possible?

"Thank you," she said at last, quietly. "I appreciate that, Booth."

He smiled. "Good to know you value my opinion, Bones."

Silently, he dug out his suit from his duffel bag, grimacing at the wrinkles. He hadn't had that much time to pack—Angela had literally hauled him up with a phone call at seven in the morning—and the wrinkled suit was the best he'd come up with. Oh well. It was at least better than jeans and a t-shirt. As Bones disappeared into the bathroom to change, he slipped hurriedly out of his jeans and into the slacks. Exchanging his black shirt for a dress shirt, he quickly tied the tie, tightened it, and threw on his suit jacket.

"You look very nice, Booth."

"Thanks, Bones," he said, turning. "It's the same suit as always, though, so I don't know why—"

Good _God._

His jaw hit the ground and pooled somewhere around his ankles. His hands, adjusting his tie, froze in place as she stepped out from the bathroom.

A smile lit up her face. "What, Booth? You've seen me in dresses before."

_Not enough, _he thought with an inward groan. _Not nearly enough._ But it was probably a good thing because if she walked around everyday looking as gorgeous as she did now, he'd probably have mauled her by now. He had his values and morals, sure, but his self control wasn't nearly _that_ good.

She wore a tight-fitting red dress with thin straps that ran up her pale shoulders. The skirt ended a little above her knees, just high enough to make his mouth go dry, and as she bent down to fit on matching red heels, he about passed out at the bare hint of cleavage he caught.

_Good God,_ he thought, exhaling loudly. How the hell was he going to endure three days with her if she was going to prance around in dresses looking like _that?_

"Booth?" she asked, peering at him. "Are you okay?"

Absolutely not, he was not okay. And if she made him even a _degree_ less okay, he'd have her right against the wall, showing her just how _not okay_ he was.

He swallowed weakly. "Yeah, Bones, I'm fine. I'm just…You look great."

Great? She looked like the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen, and all he could come up with was _great?_

_Oh, get over yourself,_ his common sense chided. 'Great' was a good partner-to-partner observation. 'Great' was from a friend to a friend. Any more than that, and it wouldn't be professional. It wouldn't be right.

It didn't stop him from thinking up ridiculously non-professional compliments in his head, though.

"Thank you," Bones said with a smile. Her eyes traced over his form briefly, and she added, "You look great yourself."

Trying to drag his eyes away from her body, he smiled. "Okay, then, are we ready? Did you call Hodgins and Angela?"

She nodded. "They should be ready in a few minutes."

She led the way out of the room, and Booth slipped the keycard into his pocket as he closed the door behind them. Out in the hallway, Angela and Hodgins were already waiting for them, the artist in a stunning black dress and the squint in a suit that looked five times as expensive as Booth's. With a sigh and a shake of his head at his salary, Booth led the way to the elevators and out to the car.

With Hodgins reading off the map, they made it to the restaurant within twenty minutes. It was one of those places that made Booth's head spin when he thought about the bill they'd have afterwards. It certainly looked too grand to belong to a little town like Burtonsville.

"This is…different," Bones said, getting out of the car. "When I lived here, this was the only formal restaurant in town. It was much smaller though."

He wondered if she went here a lot when she lived here. Did her foster parents take her to this restaurant for her birthdays? Did she go here for her dates? There was so much he didn't know about her, so much he itched to know. Maybe being back in the place of her youth would make her open up a little.

They went inside, ducking out of the bitter cold, and Booth let out a low whistle. Everything from the fancy chandeliers to the balconied second floor screamed money.

He didn't think he had enough money to pay for a meal here. All the money he'd brought from D.C. probably wouldn't be enough to help him through the night. With a groan, he thought of how many cases he'd have to close by the end of the month to earn his bonus. With that, he might be able to pay his way through this ridiculously fancy restaurant.

Bones caught the anxious expression on his face and leaned in close to him as Angela and Hodgins went on ahead. "I'm paying for the dinner, Booth."

He shook his head. "No, I'll pay."

"Don't be stubborn. Your salary—"

"Let's stop talking about my salary, huh?" he huffed. "Jeez."

She gave him a look. "I'm just saying, as a confident male, you feel embarrassed to admit to any shortcomings. In your case, financial incapability."

Financial incapability. Jeez, she made it sound like he was a guy who couldn't rub two cents together. He did his best not to scowl.

"I'm not poverty-stricken, Bones," he grumbled. "I can pay."

She frowned. "Then think of my payment as a thanks. A thanks for coming with me to this reunion."

He shook his head. "I'd go with you anywhere, Bones. Doesn't mean you can pay for my food every time we make a trip."

"Well, humor me," she said, staring at him in exasperation. "It can be a favor to me."

"You paying for my dinner is a favor?" he repeated. "Doesn't sound very good on your part."

"Nevertheless," she answered with a small smile, continuing on into the restaurant. With a huff, he followed her, adjusting his tie and glancing surreptitiously at all the fanciness. Hodgins and Angela had already claimed a table by the window so they could look out into the street as they ate and watch the passerby. A waiter came up promptly for their orders, and Booth tried to ignore the prices on the menu.

When the food had arrived and they'd dug in, Angela asked, "So what's the plan for tomorrow?"

"I figured we could just hang out until Dr. B's reunion thing," Hodgins answered. "For a small town, this place has got some pretty interesting sights. There's a museum of art and a popular park nearby."

"Art, you said?" Angela repeated, eyes gleaming. "I'm totally there." She smiled widely and added, "And then a romantic walk in a park afterwards. What do you say to that?"

Hodgins leaned forward and gave his wife a long, deep kiss, one that had Booth coughing uncomfortably. Apparently oblivious to the FBI agent's discomfort, Hodgins dipped in for another kiss and said, "Sounds good to me, baby."

Booth coughed again. "Well, if it's all the same to you, I'd rather not follow you on your romantic walk in the park."

Angela laughed in amusement. "Unless you're a voyeur, I hope you won't follow us."

Booth flushed and shook his head. "You two…Don't you ever do anything but make out?"

"Oh, yeah," Angela said. "We have sex."

He choked on the bite of steak he'd taken and reached quickly for the glass of water. Taking a huge swallow of water, he coughed down the remains of the food and glared at the artist.

"Let's not talk about that while we're _eating, _okay?" he hissed, hoping his face wasn't red.

Angela shrugged. "Okay. We can talk about it later, then."

He glowered at her. "Let's not talk about that ever. How's that?" _And let's _definitely_ not talk about that while Bones is wearing a dress that makes me want to maul her._

Bones cleared her throat, as unembarrassed as ever. He wondered sometimes what the hell could possibly fluster her.

"I think that sounds fine," she said. "As long as we're all back at the hotel by one to get ready, it should be fine."

"One," Hodgins repeated. "Got it. And the reunion starts at two thirty?"

Bones nodded. "Formal attire," she reminded them. "And also—"

"Temperance?"

They all turned at the voice and found a man standing a table away, his eyes wide with surprise.

"Temperance Brennan?" the man repeated, taking a step closer to the table.

Bones nodded slowly. "Yes."

The man broke out into a wide smile. "It's me, Tempe. It's Joel Hawkins, remember?"

Her eyes lit up in recognition, and a wide smile spread across her face as she rose and greeted him warmly.

"Joel! It's been a long time."

The man laughed. "Yeah, too long, Tempe. You didn't come to the last reunion, so I didn't think…but I'd hoped you would come. I've been wanting to see you."

Her smile widened, and Booth shifted in his seat. "I've been wanting to see you too, Joel," she said warmly, eyes sparkling. "I've missed you."

Booth's eyes widened. What? _What?_ She'd _missed_ this guy? No matter how many times he'd tried to get her to say it, she'd never admitted to missing him, not when he went on FBI trips or vacation or anything. And here was this guy who randomly popped back into her life and she'd _missed_ him? He tried to stifle the thrill of jealously that shot through him.

"Any idea who he is?" Hodgins whispered at Booth's side.

Angela shook her head. "She's never mentioned a Joel. She seems pretty friendly with him, though."

"And I thought she said no one from her high school liked her," Booth grumbled, eyeing the two of them.

"He's probably just a friend," Angela reassured him, catching the edge to Booth's voice. "It's nothing to worry—"

And then Joel Hawkins from high school bent down and planted a kiss right on Bones's lips. And Booth pretty much wanted to shoot himself in the foot.


End file.
